


Bad Choices

by sweet_sue_sparrow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Murderers, Serial Killers, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-01 20:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_sue_sparrow/pseuds/sweet_sue_sparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters are the worst.  They are the serial killers other criminals check under their beds for at night, the reason kids never play outside alone, the half -men- half- legends that parents tell their children about in hushed voices.<br/>And Castiel was stupid, so stupid!  One poor choice and a hook up in a gas station bathroom and suddenly everything that could go wrong does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            It was the end of the longest shift of his life.  His body felt limp, all dull aches and pinpricks.  Castiel didn’t make a habit of hanging around outside at night.  Then again, he didn’t smoke either but right now he was watching the tendrils of grey rising to become part of the clouds.  He was trying new things tonight.

            And Gabriel was back at the apartment -Castiel’s apartment- lounging on the couch, half buried in candy wrappers.  When had summer vacation turned into a gap year?  Sometimes Castiel worried that his older brother would never go back to school.

            He had taken a seat up on a high brick wall outside the gas station, blowing wispy trails of smoke.  The night was cold but in a knit sweater he only felt the nipping about his cheeks and nose. Castiel watched, disinterestedly as a big, black, classic car pulled into a pump.  He had never liked old cars, not really.  They seemed so ostentatious, especially when young men drove them, looking like they’d accidentally lifted it off the set of Grease, and so self satisfied about it.  Then again, everyone had their hobbies, and some people had classic cars.

            “Got a light?”

            Castiel hadn’t even seen the man approach. 

            “Oh, yes.”  He fumbled to extract the lighter from his pocket, his heart rate slowly returning to normal.

            “Thanks.  Shit,” the man turned seemed to search his pockets, “any way I could bum a cigarette off you to?”

            “That’s fine.”  Castiel hadn’t smoked long enough to guard his pack with any kind of jealousy. 

            “Thank you, man.”

            The lighter flashed to life, catching a pair of astonishingly green eyes.  The part of Castiel that was a lit major wanted nothing more than to apply beautiful, flowery metaphors and similes to those eyes, but he had more dignity than that.

            “Been a long drive.”  The man said with a smile just discernable in the darkness.  “Man, I needed a smoke.”

            “Glad I could help.”

            The strange man heaved himself up beside Castiel.  Now that his face was in the glow of the gas station, Castiel could not help but stare a little.  He was, there was no other word for it: _beautiful_.  Perfectly shaped lips, rough chin, sandy hair, and of course, those brilliant green eyes.  Though something about the man struck him as oddly familiar, that thought was shoved to a back corner of the brain.  Castiel swallowed, hoping to force down the blood that he felt rising to his cheeks.

            “It’s freezing out here, man.” His companion complained, rubbing his hands while holding the cigarette between his teeth.  “It always this cold around here?”

            “This time of year, yes.”  Was Castiel really having a conversation about the weather?

            “Just drove in from California.  Not this cold in November out there.”  The man’s voice was rough, with a hint of a twang.

            “That’s a long way to drive in a day.”  Castiel remarked.

            “Well you know, that’s my life.  Go where the job takes me, don’t complain.”

            “What sort of job?”

            “Well hey now, a man’s got to keep some secrets.  I don’t even know your name.”

            “It’s Castiel.”  He didn’t wait to answer but jumped on the tail of the man’s question so quickly he nearly caught it.

            “Castiel?  That’s …unusual.  I’m Dean, by the way.”  He smiled, blowing a plume of smoke into the air between them.  Slightly less romantic than mist, Castiel thought.

            “Unusual?”

            “Well I’ve never met another Castiel.”

            Dean stared ahead for a little while, as if he were studying the gas station scientifically.  The black car was pulled up to a pump, a behemoth of a man in a plaid shirt was fueling it up. 

            “Is that your car?”  Castiel asked at last.

            “Yeah.  That’s my baby.”  Dean said this proudly.  Suddenly Castiel wondered if maybe he’d misjudged young men who drove classic cars.

            “It’s very nice.”

            “I think so.” 

            Another pause.  Castiel threw aside the used-up cigarette butt and pulled a new one from the carton.  He realized Dean still had his lighter.

            “Wait,” Dean said when Castiel requested it.  “There’s something I wanna try.  I’ve seen it in the movies.”

            “Alright.”  Castiel agreed dubiously.

            “Okay, so you hold your cigarette in your mouth, and I hold mine like this,” he clenched it between his teeth.  “Then I lean over and try…”  He seemed to be trying to match the two ends up, to light Castiel’s with his own.  “Almost…”  Though he didn’t know what to think, Castiel found this strangely enjoyable.  He felt his spirits rise with the sense of fun.  Dean was the type of man he’d always secretly fantasized about.  Wild, rough around the edges, with just a hint of crazy.

            All of a sudden, the cigarette slipped and Dean’s lips were on his.  The next thing he knew he was kissing Dean, a total stranger, gripping at his grey jacket, pressing himself against him.

            “Hey,” Dean said, pulling away, “on a scale of one to ten, how crazy would it be if we hooked up in the bathroom over there?  Just a little fun, just this once.  What d’you say, Cassie? ”

            Castiel had never had spontaneous casual sex before, especially not with strangers he’d met outside gas stations at night.  And maybe it was the part of him that wanted to smoke cigarettes and tell Gabriel to move out and be fucking crazy, but he said yes.  Yes.

            “Watch the car Sammy!”  Dean called as they walked past the pump where the car was parked.  ‘Sammy’ rolled his eyes in a perfect expression of distaste.

           

 

Then the two of them were in the bathroom, Dean was running his hands under Castiel’s sweater, leaving warm tingling trails.  They kissed again, hungrily, lustfully.  Dean trailed kisses down Castiel’s neck, not tender, but wild and buzzing with sexuality.  Castiel was just beginning to fiddle with Dean’s fly when the unthinkable happened.

            He was slammed, suddenly and painfully, into the tile wall of the bathroom.  Dean was looking at him with green fire in his eyes.

            “Didn’t anyone teach you about stranger danger?”  He asked in that gruff voice, suddenly so packed with mal-intent.  “Big mistake Cassie.”  And Dean raised a fist.  Castiel felt the blow to his cheek, sending him dropping to the floor and into darkness.

 

            When Castiel awoke he became aware of several things in very quick succession.  One: he was gagged, two:  he was folded over in a terribly uncomfortable position, three: his hands were tied behind his back, four: he was in a very dark, very small space and it was moving.  And now he was crying.

            He felt no shame in being a twenty three year old man and crying.  He was tied up in the trunk of a car, probably going to die.  And why?  Because he’d been stupid enough to hookup with a stranger who he’d known for maybe fifteen minutes, in a gas station bathroom.  All he wanted now was to go home, to bicker with Gabriel and inevitably settle on the floor next to the couch and watch shit TV with him, all differences put aside.  He’d give anything to be writing papers, worrying about finishing all his reading in time.  Anything, anything but this.

            He felt the car moving quite fast.  He wondered half heartedly, how long it would be before somebody reported him missing.  Gabriel would be worried right away.  He was always over protective.  But the police wouldn’t start looking until he was what, forty-eight hours missing?  He could be dead by then.  And Dean probably wouldn’t kill him quickly, no, if that was his intention Castiel would already be dead.  He cursed his stupidity again.

 

            It was another six hours before the trunk was opened.  The man who looked in was not Dean but the other man, the huge, plaid wearing one.  Close up he didn’t look much older than Castiel.  Shaggy brown hair swept across his face and like his comrade he was incredibly good looking.  The behemoth regarded his captive disinterestedly.

            “He’s fine.”  The man called, presumably to Dean. 

            Castiel was not fine.  After all those hours his tears had dried as sticky salt trails on his face but the mental anguish had only given way to physical pain.  His limbs were sore from being folded so long and his wrists, bound with rope, felt as if they had been sanded.  He felt half dead already.

            “Get him out of the car.”  Dean’s voice.

            “We’re bringing him in?”

            “Yeah.  Quick.”

            “Come on.” 

The tall man grumbled, pulling Castiel roughly by the neck of his shirt.  He was forced out of the car and into what appeared to be a motel parking lot.  He could barely stand.  His legs were weak and shaky. 

“Come on!”  The man urged him again.  “Walk naturally.”  Castiel felt the definite pressure of a gun against his back.

He bit down hard on the gag, trying to smother his fear.  His captor led him to one of the rooms.  Dean was inside, laying out several big and dangerous looking guns on the bed.  He turned around when Sam came in, eyes sliding easily from his accomplice to his prisoner.

“Hey there Castiel.”  Dean grinned.  Castiel hated him.  He hated him so much. “Sit him in the corner.”  This to the behemoth.

Once he was seated in the corner of the motel room furthest from the door and directly in front of Dean’s bed, his gag was removed.  He choked on the emptiness of his mouth, still tasting the acrid rag.

“Please!”  Was the first thing he blurted out.  “Please let me go!  Please, I won’t tell the police, I won’t tell anyone!”

“Shh.”  Dean smiled again.  “Pipe down Cassie.  Do you know who we are?”

Castiel shook his head.

“I’m Dean Winchester, and bigfoot over there is my brother Sammy.”

 _Winchester_?  No.  No, please, God that couldn’t be true.  Castiel knew of the Winchesters.  They’d been on the news time and time again, killing their way onto the FBI’s most wanted list.  They were the ones who robbed banks, shot up diners, and burned corpses for fun. 

“No,” Castiel whispered.  “I- I’m just- I’m a student, I’m normal, I work at a bakery.”

Dean chuckled.  “This might surprise you, Cassie, but most people are normal.  You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.  And really fucking stupid.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Oh, probably.  But not right now.”

Castiel felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.  “Oh.”

“Speaking of,” Sam cut in, “when are we gonna kill him?”

“Eventually.”  Dean sounded bored already.

“Eventually, Dean?  You do realize we’re gonna have to drag this kid around as long as he’s alive right?  I mean, isn’t that a little risky?”

“We’ve taken hostages before.”

“Yeah, when we needed them.  I mean, why did you even take this kid?”

Dean shrugged.  “He’s cute and stupid?  I don’t know.  But come on! We’ve been hunting for months.  Just this once I’d like to kill something that doesn’t have a criminal record.”

Vaguely Castiel remembered that the Winchesters were known for targeting other criminals.  Not that they always did.  For every drug operation they wiped out to the last man, there was also a bank robbery, a grocery store they shot up.  This just kept getting worse.  Castiel wanted to start crying again.

“Kill him soon, Dean.  This makes me nervous.  I don’t wanna get caught over some dumb kid you picked up for no reason.”

“Sure, sure, whatever, Sammy.  Eventually.” 

Sam sighed and made for the door.  “I’m gonna go check out the bar around the corner.  You coming?”

“Nah,” said Dean, leaning back on the bed.  “I think I’ll stay here and chat with Cassie.”

The other brother left with a shrug.

As the room lapsed into a temporary silence, Castiel just hoped and prayed that Gabriel had called the police.  He wasn’t ready to die. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean didn’t really make good on his promise to chat with Castiel.  Instead he flopped down on the motel bed and slept.  It was not until that night, when Sam returned from the bar, that anyone spoke. 

            “Hey, Sammy!”  Dean moaned, rolling over and blinking away sleep.

            “Don’t call me Sammy.”

            Dean laughed.

            “Anyway,” Sam said, taking a seat at the table near the door and opening a laptop.  “I think I’ve found us a case.”

            “A case?”  Dean sat up.

            “Yeah, you know, the things we normally do when you’re not abducting people for fun.  There’s been a string of murders in Nebraska.  It’s all women, all young.  I think we’ve definitely got a serial killer.”

            “So what, you wanna pop out there and deal with it?”

            “That’s what I was thinking.”

            Thus far Castiel had been utterly ignored.  He sat, tied up in his corner, barely daring to move for fear of attracting attention to himself.  But it seemed it was all for naught for just then both Winchesters turned their gaze toward him.

            “He can’t come. We’ve got to kill him soon.”  Sam said.

            “Why?” Dean moaned, “What’s the point of taking him this far then killing him after a day?  Come on, man, lets just hold onto Cassie a bit longer.”

            “He’s a liability, Dean.”  Sam warned, “Taking him with us to Nebraska?  That’s just more opportunities for things to go wrong.”

            “Not yet.”  Dean insisted.  “And besides, if we wait ‘till Nebraska, nobody’ll be looking for him there.  We can dump the body without everyone recognizing him right away.”

              Sam nodded.  “Good point.  Fine.  We keep him ‘till Nebraska, then that’s it.”

            “Since when were you in charge Sammy?”  Dean’s voice was light, mocking.  He’d gotten what he wanted.

            “Since you started taking home strays because you were bored.”  Sam was curt, but not aggressive.

           

            Castiel did not sleep all that night.  He did not know where they were, but he hoped it was more than a day’s drive from Nebraska.  Every day he was not lying dead in a ditch was another day that the police were searching for him, coming closer to finding him.  He needed time. 

            He was lucky, the Winchesters decided to linger one more day in the motel.  Castiel watched everything the two did.  He thought maybe if he could just find a pattern, a method to the madness he could find a way out.

            “Ex-excuse me?”  Castiel asked, his throat dry, as the Winchesters sat at the table over breakfast. 

            “Yeah?”  Dean looked up from his toast and mid morning shot of whiskey. 

            “Could I- could I have some water?”  Castiel was hungry too, but he didn’t want to push his luck.

            “Sure thing, Cassie.”  Dean rose with a groan and went to fill a plastic cup from the tap.

            He held the cup in his hands and raised it to Castiel’s lips, spilling some of the water down the man’s front. Still, it was the most welcome sensation in the world, drinking.  His throat was so dry that swallowing hurt, but it was still wonderful.  When Dean pulled the empty cup away, Castiel leaned forward, desperately, with his mouth.  Dean placed his finger against Castiel’s lips.

            “No.  That was enough.”

            Sam rolled his eyes.

            “What?”  Dean asked, heading back to his seat at the table.

            “Never mind.  Anyway, I’m gonna head over to the library today, do some research.”

            “Nerd.”

            “Shut up!  Anyway, what’re you going to do?”

            “Well we can’t leave Cassie in here alone.  Too risky.  I guess I’ll stay here with him again.”

            “You sure?”

            “Yeah, it’s fine.  We never did get that chat.”

 

            Sam left around noon, armed with his laptop and a knife tucked into his jeans pocket.  This left Dean and Castiel alone again.  This time they really did talk.

            “Having fun?”  Dean asked, grinning.

            “Do you honestly want me to answer yes?”

            “Nah.  I just couldn’t think of a conversation starter.  Since I’m on babysitting duty anyway, I figured we could talk.”

            “Alright.”  Castiel agreed, wearily.

            “I can tell Sam scares the shit out of you, even more than I do.”

            It was true.

            “You know, he’s actually the nice one.  Sammy.  He’s a really sweet kid once you get to know him.” 

            Castiel didn’t really want to get to know Sam.  He didn’t want to get to know Dean either, but it didn’t seem like he had a choice.

            “You got any siblings, Cassie?”

            “A few.”

            “You live with any?”

            “Yes.  Gabriel.  He’s my older brother.”  _And he’s coming for me just you wait_.  Castiel wanted to add that bit but knew better.

            “So you’re somebody else’s pain in the ass little brother.  What’s he like?  Gabriel?”

            Why was Dean asking all these questions?  It was better to answer them.  That was certain.  He had heard somewhere that if you were kidnaped you were supposed to try to appeal emotionally to your captor.  Maybe this was his chance.

            “Gabriel is… he’s very kind.  He’s rather unmotivated and some might call him lazy, but there’s a good heart under it all.  And he’s always been there for me.”  Was it working?  He couldn’t read Dean’s face.

            “That’s cute.  Good to know you’ll be missed Cassie.  I don’t just kill anybody you know, I’d hate to go through all that trouble just for no one to pay attention. 

“Now Sam, he likes to be quiet about things, slip in, slip out.  Job done.  But me, I like to make a show.  I think the job ain’t done ‘till you’ve made yourself clear.  I want people to be afraid of the Winchesters, Cassie.  I want all those low down, dirty, monsters we hunt to know what we are.  I want them quaking in their boots at the sound of our name.  I want you on the front page of every paper, Cassie.  So everyone can see your pretty face and know that we’re serious.”

            Castiel gulped.  Dean was kneeling in front of him, face inches away, as if he meant to kiss him.  He did not.  After a long pause, during which he seemed to taste the air, Dean drew back and sat on the bed. 

            “I bet you have to pee.”  He said. 

            Castiel nodded, slightly afraid to acknowledge the mounting pressure in his abdomen for fear he would explode.

            “You can go to the bathroom, get up.”  Dean rose too as Castiel struggled awkwardly to rise without the aid of his hands.  His legs were yet more sore than yesterday, and he stumbled as Dean led him through to the bathroom.

            Dean untied Castiel’s hands so he could unzip his pants, then watched the whole time, Castiel hadn’t expected privacy but he still felt himself go red as he tried not to meet Dean’s piercing gaze.  He didn’t know what to make of the man.  Not that he had been good with people before, but Dean was stranger.  One minute whispering promises of death, the next allowing little kindnesses.  He didn’t know what to do or how to reason it.

            “Thank you.”  He said meekly, as Dean retied his wrists.

            Suddenly Dean’s phone rang in the other room.  The Winchester dragged Castiel back to his corner and threw him down.  Castiel stumbled and fell hard on his backside, hitting his head against the wall.

            “Sam, hey!  … Yeah, everything’s great.  … No, I’m not watching the news, why?  … Okay, I will.  …. Yeah, right now.”  Dean walked over to the old TV set mounted on the wall next to Castiel and turned it on.  He had to flick through several channels before he hit the local news station.

            “ _…search for twenty-three year old Castiel Novak, who went missing two days ago on his way home from work.  Though Mr. Novak is believed to have been kidnapped, King County police still have no leads on the case.”_

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered, still holding the phone to his ear. 

Though he didn’t show it, Castiel’s heart had leapt.  They were looking for him!  There was still a chance, a small chance that he would be saved after all.  On the screen there was a photo of him and Gabriel’s phone number.  This was it.  He could still be saved.

“Well,” Dean said, laying down the phone and switching off the TV, “looks like they’re finally searching for you, Cassie.  Not that they’ll find you in time.  Still, this is the attention I was talking about.  Once they really start searching for you, once they figure out it was Sam and me, we’ll be all over the news.  Exciting, isn’t it?”

 

Sam didn’t find it quite as exciting when he returned from the library.  He looked flustered, a rare emotion for the Winchesters from what he’d seen.

“We have to go,” he said “right now, into the woods, we’ve got to shoot him now, dump the body, get out of the state.  Come on.”

“Wait, Sam,” Dean cut in, “be rational.  Killing him right now’s not gonna fix this.  It’ll be traced to us anyway.  Let’s just enjoy the ride.  Besides, what’s one more kidnapping?  We’ll kill him in Nebraska.  We’re not changing the game plan.”

            “Don’t be stupid, Dean.”

            “I’m not being stupid, I’m just saying, it’s not like we’re gonna get caught.  We’ve gotten away every time.  This is nothing to freak out about Sammy.  Come on.”

            “Fine.  Fine Dean, but I’m getting sick of this.  After we kill him, no more random kidnappings, okay?  We stick to hunting, to killing things and not taking them home, okay?”

            “Whatever floats your boat Sammy.”

            “Don’t call me Sammy!”

            But Castiel had stopped listening.  Something was changing in his mind, weather it was clicking into place or falling out, he had no clue, but he knew one thing, he had to stay close to Dean.  Dean would defend him.  Dean would protect him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! A few people have asked about updates: just for future reference, I will almost always update on friday or saturday night, sunday at the latest. 
> 
> Oh, and thank you to Percy, who generously agreed to beta this chapter and all future chapters because I'm just too damn lazy!


	3. Chapter 3

            The next day found Castiel bound, gagged, and stuffed in the trunk of the car again.  This time, the Winchesters did not have to knock him out.  He complied as Sam stuffed a grease-stained rag into his mouth and tightened the ropes that bound his writs.  Dean was the one who led him back to the car.  Castiel obediently climbed into the trunk and bent all the way over, becoming small.

            “You’re such a good little hostage.”  Dean murmured, fingers brushing Castiel’s messy hair.  Then the lid closed on the world and all was dark.

            The worst thing is that he hadn’t been aware of his hatred for Dean slipping away.  He would never willingly let it go.  And this new emotion, this thing he didn’t want inside himself, was not the opposite of hate.  It was almost a hope, twisted and mutilated until it was more akin to desperation.  But he couldn’t understand it.  His own thoughts were beyond him.

            Never mind.  There were more pressing matters at hand like the police investigation.  If they had only just started looking for him, was it possible they could find him in time?  Castiel tried to calculate the distance they had travelled.  They had only driven about six hours after taking Castiel. Perhaps they hadn’t even left the state.  If that were true he should have at least two or three days before they reached Nebraska.  Whatever was going to happen in Nebraska, it wasn’t good.  He had to be saved.  He had to.  He reminded himself that Gabriel was still out there, still worried.  He would be okay.  _He would be okay._

           

            Castiel’s legs were excruciatingly sore when Dean came around to the trunk.

            “Potty break,”  He said, pulling Castiel rather roughly from the trunk.

            They were parked on the side of a road lined on either side by high trees.  Mountains rose on the horizon, snow capped and rugged, and the air smelled fresh and clean.  It would have been beautiful if it wasn’t all tainted with the color and the scent of fear.  Dean led him to a place just behind a tree and again untied his hands. 

            Castiel saw something in the near distance, the red and yellow of a camping tent.  Yes, he could even make out the sound of voices, loud ones, not too far off.  For the first time since he agreed to go into that bathroom with Dean, Castiel felt bold.  Dean nodded at him, reminding him that he was supposed to be urinating.  That was when Castiel did the only thing stupider than trusting a serial killer: he ran away from one.

            He was never very athletic, never did well in sports, but he supposed it must be adrenaline that gave his feet the strength to carry him.  He sprinted away from Dean, leapt over branches, dodged trees, if it weren’t for he gag still in his mouth he would have screamed too.  It was all going to be over, he was going to be saved, just a few more feet-

            He tripped.  Over what, he did not know.  But he fell, hard on his knees and all was lost.  Something very hard struck him in the stomach.  Dean was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground.  The man pinned him down on his back, straddling him, holding a gun against Castiel’s forehead.  He leaned down, until his lips were brushing Castiel’s ear.

            “You son of a bitch!”  He hissed, his words hot and acrid as his breath, “I’d shoot you right now but I don’t want anybody hearing us.  You fucker!”  He got off Castiel and pulled him up roughly.  “You ever try anything like that again, and I’ll put one in your head, I don’t care who hears.”  With that he delivered a heavy blow to Castiel’s face, accompanied by a sickening crunch.  The captive’s eyes widened, fearing worse, but none came.

            Dean led him back to the car, where he was stuffed back in the trunk.  Castiel was still out of breath, feeling blood drip down his face from his nose, heaving through his gag, and crying again.  The worst part was that he felt guilty.  Guilty for running away, guilty for making Dean angry.  He wanted to apologize. 

 

            That night the Winchesters stopped at another motel.  Sam fetched Castiel from the trunk and prodded him along to the room.  The television was on, flashing commercials.  Dean was already there, lying on the bed. He ignored Castiel.

            “Hey Sammy,” he said, cracking a smile.

            “Dude, you broke his nose.”  Sam said.

            Dean shrugged.  “He tried to run away.”

            “Then you should’ve shot him.”

            “Didn’t want anyone to hear me.”

            Sam sighed and rolled his eyes.  He led Castiel to a spot near the bathroom and forced him down with a light shove.

            “I’m going out.”  Dean said.

            Castiel tried to move toward him but could not.

            “Fine.” 

            When the door closed behind Dean, Sam sat on the foot of his bed and looked at Castiel.  The prisoner’s heart dropped a little to be left alone with the younger Winchester.

            “It’s Castiel, right?”

            Castiel nodded, still gagged.

            “Look, Cas, it’s fucked up what Dean is doing to you.  I mean, if it were up to me we’d never have taken you in the first place.”

            Castiel did not respond, but he didn’t feel like listening to Sam.  Dean was the one who argued to save him.  Sam was the one who would kill him now.  Castiel didn’t trust him.

            “Now that we have you, we’ve got to kill you.  It’s the only way.  I’m just being honest.  But Dean, look, he’s my brother and I love him, but this is fucked up.  Playing with you, then punching you.  He’s going to kill you, Cas.  He’s not going to save you.  It’s in your head Cas.  It’s too sad, watching you with him.  So I’m telling you this for your own good.  Dean’s going to kill you.  One way or another, however you feel about him.”

            Castiel shook his head.  Dean was wrong, Sam wasn’t the ‘nice one’.  He was cruel, he was messing with Castiel’s mind.

            “Dude, he broke your nose.  You’ve got to know that’s fucked up.”

            But Dean was only doing what the circumstances required.  Castiel had run away.  Dean had punished him.

            “Wait-“  Sam looked up at the TV, which was now showing two photos of the Winchesters.  He jumped to his feet, grabbing the remote and turning up the volume.

            _“… suspects in the kidnapping of twenty-three-year-old Castiel Novak. Sam and Dean Winchester are already wanted for at least forty counts of murder and robbery across the country.  Police are assuring the public, and Mr. Novak’s family, that they are doing all they can to help.  More on this story at ten.”_

            Castiel thought Sam would execute him then and there.  The man looked livid.  With fear or anger or both, Castiel wasn’t sure.  But Sam didn’t kill him.  He just cast him a warning look and left the room.  Through the door he could hear Sam yelling at Dean.  Though the words did not come through in one piece, he was almost sure he knew what the gist of it was. 

            Dean seemed pleased when he got back to the motel.  “Calm down, Sammy.”  He smiled easily.

            “Calm down?  The police are on our asses again because of you.  You and your…” Sam searched for the word, “pet!”

            The older brother heaved a sigh.  “Don’t be such a little bitch, Sammy.  Come on, this is good!  We kill him and get tons of attention, we scare the shit out of those monsters before we even come for them.”

            “That’s ridiculous, Dean!  You’re gonna get us caught.”

            “I’m not.  We always get away.”

            “So far!”  Sam insisted.  “I’m not getting caught over this kid Dean, I’m not!”

            “Okay, okay!  In Nebraska we’ll kill him and ditch the body.  We’ll lay low for a while, it’ll be fine.”

            Sam gave in in the end.  He flopped down on his bed.  Castiel leaned against the wall, aching with sleeplessness and the pain of his broken nose.

            Dean padded over, almost silent on the carpeted floor.

            “You look like hell, Cassie.”

            Were he not gagged, Castiel might have been bold enough to point out that that was Dean’s fault.  Instead he just squinted up at his captor.

            “Here” Dean said, sliding out of his jacket.  He Knelt down and placed it on the floor.  “Use it as a pillow.  Sleep.” 

            Gladly, Castiel complied.  He laid down, with some difficulty, and more than a little pain, and put his head on the folded jacket.  It was not soft or really comfortable, but it smelled good.  Like cigarettes and whiskey and gunpowder.  Dean looked pleased and went back to his bed.

            “You’re fucked up.”  Said Sam.

            “What?” Protested the older brother.

            “Stop it.  Stop playing with him.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “You know what I mean.  You broke his nose this morning.  Then you give him your jacket? What do you think that’s doing to him?”

            “Oh come on!”  Said Dean, but Castiel was no longer listening.  He was inhaling the slightly acrid but oddly pleasant smell of the jacket, for the first time in ages, being lulled to sleep.  He felt safe.  God knew why.  He felt safe.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens...  
> Thanks as always to Percy who beta reads for me and is awesome!


	4. Chapter 4

This was the day they would get to Nebraska.  Castiel could feel it in the anticipation in Sam’s voice when he talked about the trip, in the finality with which Dean woke him, slapping him lightly on the cheek and whispering _Cassie, Cassie wake up_.  This was the day he was going to die.  Unless... unless there was a miracle.  If the police managed to find him, or better still, if Dean took pity on him.  There was hope of that still.

When Dean roused him, he did so gently, or relatively so.  His hands, rough and warm, lingered a moment on Castiel’s cheek, almost cupping it as the other man groaned his way back into wakefulness.  The world was all dull pain, but Dean’s face, inches away, seemed like a salvation.  

His gag was untied.  It came away trailing saliva and crusted with dried blood from his nose.  It was only when Dean took him to the bathroom that he caught sight of himself in the mirror.  He would not have been recognizable as the man whose photo was all over the news.  This face was pale, the hair greasy, tangled, the eyes defeated, and the nose broken.  Dried blood caked the lower part of his face like mud after a drought, cracked and desolate.  

When the awkwardness of the bathroom was left and he again sat in the corner, watching the two Winchesters, he did not speak, though he could have, but listened.

“You got everything we need?”  Dean asked, pouring his obscenely early morning shot of whisky.  

“And more.  This is small fry, this case.”

“One step at a time, Sammy.  And besides, we’re about to go on vacation, take some time to lie low after we ditch Cassie.”

A shiver shot down Castiel’s spine at the mention of his name.

The younger Winchester nodded.  “We can stay with Bobby.  He’s always cool with us using his place.”

“Great.”  Said Dean, “Let’s hit the road.”  He walked back to Castiel and pulled him back to his feet.

“Dean-“ Castiel grunted.  “Please don’t gag me.”

“You know I’ve got to.  Don’t want you screaming.”

“I won’t scream.  I promise.”  He was pleading now.

Dean seemed to consider.  “Fine.  But if you try to scream, if you even cough too loud, I’ll pull over and shoot you.”

“Dean, no.”  Sam said, crossing his arms, “You really wanna risk it?”

Dean shrugged.  “Sure.  Cassie deserves it, don’t you think?  Been so good for us.”  He placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, fingers kneading the flesh.

The younger Winchester rolled his eyes.  

Dean led him to the car, but not to he trunk.  

“Special treat.”  Said Dean, opening the back door.  “But don’t feel too special. Don’t even blink funny out that window or I swear to god I’ll end you.”

“Thank you Dean.”  Castiel nodded his head in submission.  

The other man laughed.  There was a lot wrong with that laugh.  It was laced with poison and honey, dripping with cruelty.  But there was something else too.  Goodness, or something like it.  Castiel heard it as mercy, ringing like a bell.

“We got a good long drive ahead of us.”  He said, as Sam joined them, lugging the last of their bags.

“You’re letting him sit in the back?”  Sam’s eyebrows jumped to meet his bangs.

“Yeah.  Figured the kid deserves a last hurrah.”

_Last hurrah_.  To be sure, that wasn’t promising.  There was always the hope of the police finding him.  But another, newer part of him shuddered at the idea of Dean being caught on his account.

Dean blasted classic rock, Sam complained.  Then there was a kind of companionable silence between the brothers.  

Castiel thought of Gabriel again.  Gabriel who had always been there for him, loved him, even when he was lazing, half naked, half asleep on Castiel’s couch, he was still affectionate.  He made jokes, helped him study.  Honestly, he never would have made it through Paradise Lost without Gabriel’s dramatic reenactments of Lucifer’s fall from grace.  When they were kids, he used to get hell at school.  He was always the odd one out, the weirdo.  But at the end of the day, when he walked home, biting back tears, Gabriel would catch up with him, and comfort him with a grin and a firm hug.  Out of all his siblings, Gabriel was the kindest.   Castiel missed his big brother more than he could say.

“Well I don’t know about you, Sammy, but I’m starved.”  Said Dean.

“Yeah?  Well what do you want?  Our faces are all over the news, we can’t just pop into a diner.”

“I dunno.”  Dean shrugged.  “We’ll do drive-through.  Can’t see our faces if we’re in the car.”

“And what about Castiel?”

Dean turned to look back at his captive.  “Hey, Cassie, you like burgers right?”

Castiel didn’t know how to respond.

“Well I know you like not getting shot in the face, so let’s make a deal.  You be a good little hostage and lie down in the back, don’t make a fucking sound, and I’ll give you a bit of my burger.  How’s that?”

The captive nodded.  With all the mobility of an earthworm, Castiel heaved himself off the seat and lay down on the floor.

“See, Sammy, he’s so well behaved!” Dean cooed.

The drive-through went smoothly.  Dean ordered two cheeseburgers.  Sam grumbled and Dean told him to shut up and eat his junk food.  The wait for the food was tense.  Castiel felt it too, there was the worry of being recognized, of being caught over something stupid like a burger.

“Thank you sweetheart.”  Dean said, presumably to the worker who handed over the food –Castiel couldn’t see.  There was an audible sigh of relief in the car as they pulled away.

“You can get up now Cassie.”  Dean said.  

“I can’t.”  He replied.  It was true, once he was down there he was stuck.  

Dean chuckled.  “When we get out of town I’ll let you back up.  ‘Till then why don’t you just chill out on the floor.”

It wasn’t as if Castiel was in a position to argue; so stay on the floor he did.  He felt the unevenness of the road against his cheek and wondered if he was going to die, or if he minded.  

Really, what would it matter to anyone else if he died?  Oh, sure, the media would love it, for a while.  The search for Castiel Novak, coming to an abrupt end when they found his body, bound, shot in the back of the head in some ditch in Nebraska.  Gabriel would cry.  The other Novak children might also, but only for a little while.  His father might not even care.  He had never been the favorite son, or even one to stand out of he crowd of other siblings.  And it wasn’t as if he had friends.  No, if he died it would be a tragedy for only a very few.  Even Gabriel would move on. Perhaps letting the Winchesters kill him wouldn’t be the worst thing.  At least he’d go out with a bang.

“This’ll do.”  Dean pulled the car over abruptly.  “Sam, could you go ‘round back and sit Cassie back up again?”

The younger Winchester sighed heavily but complied.  He pulled Castiel back up to the seat, not meeting his eyes.

“Aw shit Cassie, I forgot to save you some of my burger!”  Dean moaned.

He said nothing but looked down.  He hadn’t eaten in days.  How long now?  Four. Four days and the Winchesters had not fed him once.  He didn’t complain.

“I’m gonna go use the bathroom.”  Sam said, making for the woods.

“You gotta go Cassie?”  Dean asked, looking back.

“No.”  There wasn’t enough inside of him for anything to need to come out.

Dean leaned back in his seat.  He had a boyish look in his eyes, a little wistful, dreamy, but alive.  “You got parents?”  He asked.

“Yes.  A father.”

“Mom dead?”

“Gone.”

“That sucks.  Our mom’s dead, Sammy’s and mine.  Died in a house fire when we were just kids.”

“I’m sorry.”  Castiel didn’t know why he was offering comfort to a serial killer, and his kidnapper.

“It’s fine.  We get by.  Can’t say the same for Dad of course, nah, he drank himself to death a couple years back.  Not a big tragedy.  Guy was a pretty shit father come to think of it.  Still, taught us kids how to hunt.  Without that we never would’ve learned how to kill.”  Dean was rambling.  “Why am I even telling you this?”  He asked as if he expected an answer.  “Doesn’t matter.  What about your Dad, Cassie?  He good?  You think he’ll miss you?”

“My father is a very good, very busy man.  He’s a CEO, you see.  And he has nine other children besides me.”

Dean let out a low whistle.  “Ten kids?  Ain’t they got birth control where you come from?”

“My father is very religious.”

“Humph.  Ten kids.”  Dean repeated.  “Crazy.  Y’know Cassie, you’re a good boy.  I like you, you’re interesting.  Hell, I’ll be a little sorry for this road trip to end.”

Would that it never had to end, thought Castiel.  Would that he could go on with the Winchesters forever and never have to face this awful fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is nearing its end I'm afraid. Each new chapter makes me realize how fucked up my writing is. Hope you all are enjoying it, and many thanks to Percy, who beta read it.


	5. Chapter 5

            Dean had told him to wait in the car.  Wait for what?  Bound, lying, again, on the floor of the car, Castiel could not see what was happening outside.  Dean said they were hunting.  Killing again.  A serial killer.  Castiel wondered if the man was dead yet.  And if he was, what did that mean?  Death, surely.  When Dean and Sam returned, it would be to kill him.

            But perhaps his fate wasn’t set in stone.  He could see, glimmering in the light that came through the windows, the edge of a cellphone.  He knew the Winchesters kept several phones apiece and this one was lying under the passenger seat, inches from Castiel’s nose.  His hands were bound.  He could not reach it that way.  He thought hard.  What would the hero in a book do right now?  They always got out alive, always found a way where there seemed to be none.  He squinted at the phone.  It was so close to him…

            He had an idea.  It wasn’t glamorous but it would do.  Carefully, he scooted closer to the seat, until the leather upholstery was pressed tight against his forehead.  Then he stuck out his tongue, trying not to think of the dirt of ages accumulated under the seat as he brushed the floor before finally tasting plastic.  With some little effort he got it into his mouth, with a little more, he scooted back again and spit it out.  If Sam and Dean came back now he was dead meat.  Dean would put a bullet in his brain faster than he could think.

            Dialing the phone was a whole new level of hard, trying to hit the right buttons with his tongue.  He managed it some how, and lifted his head to pin the phone beneath his ear.

            It rang only once.

            “Hello, 9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

            Another human voice!  It was almost too much for him to bear.  “He-hello?”  His voice was thick with thirst and fear, “I-I need help.  I’ve been kidnapped.  I don’t have much time.  I- I think they’re going to kill me.”

            “Calm down sir, it’s going to be okay.  What’s your name?”  The operator, a woman, sounded earnest and concerned.

            “Cas-Castiel.  Castiel Novak.”

            “Do you know where you are, Castiel?”

            “No.  Somewhere in Nebraska I think.  I’m tied up in a car.  I can’t see out.  Can you find me?”

            “Yes.  Don’t worry sir, we’ll find you, I promise.  Just stay on the line a little longer and we can track the signal.”

            “Alright.”

            “How long have you been kidnapped Castiel?”

            “Four days, I think.  Maybe five.”

            “Just hang on for a little longer, alright?  We’ll find you.  How old are you?”

            “Twenty-three.”  He paused.  There were voices outside, coming closer.  “I have to go,” he hissed into the phone, “they’re coming!  If they see me with a phone they’ll kill me.”

            “Alright, okay, Castiel.  Hang up.  But don’t worry, we’ll find you.  I promise.”

            Castiel hung up.  It felt a bit like throwing back a lifeline when he was drowning but he had no other choice.  He did his best to nudge the phone back under the seat but stopped abruptly as the door was flung open.

            “What a sick fuck!”  Dean said, pulling Cas back up to the seat.  “I mean, people say a lot of bad shit about us but we ain’t never done anything as fucked up as that Jesus!”

            “Quiet down, Dean,” Sam urged his older brother.

            “No but seriously.  The police should be rewarding us for taking him out.”

            “Should but they won’t.  Now come on, where are we going?”

            Dean shrugged.  “Out into the woods a bit?  Somewhere where no one’ll hear us.”

“Sounds like a plan, come on,” said Sam. 

Dean came around to the front and started up the car.  Castiel decided if ever he was just going to try begging, now was the time.

“Please don’t kill me.”  It was almost a whisper.

Dean chuckled.  “You know we don’t have a choice.”

“You do.  You do have a choice, please, please don’t kill me!  I’m not a monster like the people you hunt, I’ve never broken the law, I swear!”  He was crying again, tears mingling with the dried blood and dirt on his face.

“Oh Cassie,” Dean sighed, “Come on.  You’ve been so good. I’ll feel bad to have to end it, but it’s what we gotta do.  I can’t drag you around forever.”

“Dean please, I don’t want to die!  I don’t want to die!”

“You think anyone wants to die?  Look, Cassie, much as I wish I could keep you around forever, that’s just not in the cards.  I mean, your fate was sealed the moment you hopped in that gas station bathroom with me.”

“Dean,” Sam cut in, “Dean, we need to stop for gas.  We’re running on empty.”

As they pulled into the parking lot of a nearby gas station, Castiel felt more than a little guilty for calling the police.  What if Dean got caught?  It would all be his fault.  He couldn’t bear the thought. 

“Shit,” Said Sam, “I need to run in.”

“Why?”

“We can’t pay with a card. I gotta go in there and beak a hundred.”

Dean shrugged.  Alone in the car with Castiel, letting the car idle beside the pump, he was quiet for a long time.

“Dean,” Castiel pleaded, “I’m begging you-“

“Cas, don’t.”

“You know I’m good, I always do as I’m told.  I’ll help you if you want, I’ll kill people too, just… just please don’t kill me!”  He wasn’t a hero, he just wanted to live, no matter the cost he just wanted to live.

Dean turned to face him, the light of the gas station convenience store lending a soft, artificial glow to his face.  He looked like an angel, an angel of death perhaps, or a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless.  With rough fingers, Dean reached out, and touched Castiel’s cheek.  His touch was warm through the crust of dried blood. 

“I’m sorry Cas, I guess I did fuck you up pretty bad.  Don’t tell him, but Sam was right.  I never shoulda’ done this to you.  Now it’s too late, we gotta do what we gotta do, and you’ve gotta die.  That’s all there is to it.”

Castiel just shook his head.  It couldn’t end like this, it couldn’t.

Dean looked up and took his hand away.  “Oh shit!”

“What is it?”

“It’s Sam,” Dean’s brow furrowed.  “Wait here.  No, if he’s in real trouble… shit!” 

Castiel tried to get a good look out the window, there was Sam, hood up as it had been before, in an attempt to hide his face, but there was no mistaking that behemoth frame.  He was backing up and another figure, that of the cashier, seemed to be holding him at bay.  He was armed and looked angry.  But there was no time to take in the scene for Dean had grabbed him by the collar and was dragging him out of the car.

“Time to be a hostage, Cassie.  Try to look scared.”

Castiel didn’t have to try.  Dean shoved his way into the convenience store and in between Sam and his attacker.

“Dean!”  Sam looked aghast, “What the hell?  I was doing fine!”

“Didn’t look like it,” said Dean.

“Stay back!”  The cashier, a young, chubby man with fear-flushed cheeks, brandished a handgun, “I’m armed!”

“Join the club kid,” said Dean, simultaneously pulling Castiel closer and withdrawing his own gun.  “And since we’re here anyway, why don’t we call this a robbery.  Hand over what’s in the register, kiddo.”  The way Dean filled the room with his presence was awe-inspiring.  It made Castiel’s blood run cold.

“B-but I’ll shoot you.  I have a gun.  You can’t rob me, I won’t let you.”

“Shoot me and you’ll hit this poor sonofabitch.”  He jerked Castiel further in front of him.  For a split second, the captive and the cashier made eye contact.  It was brief and sympathetic. 

The kid lowered his gun.

“Good, good.  See Sammy, this is how it’s done.”  Dean strode forward, or strode as best he could with an ungainly and slightly limp Castiel in front of him.  He snatched the gun out of the kid’s hand and tossed it to Sam.  “Now, open the register for me, then get on the ground and put your hands behind your head.”

Everything went as Dean commanded it and all seemed to go smoothly.  Dean had abandoned Castiel in Sam’s clutches and was stuffing wads of bills into a plastic bag when they all heard the sound of not too distant sirens.  Both Winchesters froze.

Then, “Did you call the police?”  Dean hissed through his teeth.  It took Castiel a moment to realize he was talking to the cowering cashier.  He swallowed the lump of fear and guilt that had become lodged in his throat.

“Y-yes.”  The man admitted in a whisper.

“Then there’s no reason I can’t just do this.”  Dean struck the other man hard over the head with the butt of his gun.  He fell forward, unconscious, and Dean kicked him one more time for good measure.

Castiel could feel Sam shaking.  The younger Winchester’s hands gripped at Castiel for dear life.

“Let’s get out of here ASAP,” said Dean.

“We can’t,” Sam murmured, “we don’t have enough gas.”

“Shit!  Fuck!”  Dean spat, throwing his arms up in frustration.  “So what then?  Wait around ‘till the cops show up?”

“We’ll figure something out.  We can take his.”  Sam pointed toward the unconscious cashier. 

“I’m not leaving baby!”  Dean insisted. 

“We don’t have a choice, Dean!”

Dean growled through gritted teeth.  “Fine, fine.  Pat him down.  Find his keys, quickly.  I guess we needed to change cars sooner or later.”

“Here, take Cas.”  Sam shoved Castiel over to Dean, who grabbed him and held him at arms length. 

Sam knelt down and started searching through the unconscious man’s pockets.  The sirens were very close now, lights beginning to become visible in the distance.

“Damn it!  Damn it!  We’re not gonna make it out in time!”

“We can.  I’m sure we can.  Jus give me a sec-“

But the first cars were pulling up outside.  Dean moved quickly to barricade the door, momentarily flinging Castiel aside.  “Shit, shit, shit!” 

A minute later, he was holding Castiel again, holding him very close indeed.  His body was warm against the captive’s.

“Don’t move a muscle Cassie, you’re my meat shield.”  Dean was pulling the two of them back toward the check out desk, where Sam was crouching, clutching his gun.  A loud, garbled voice rang through the little shop.

“This is the police!  Come out with your hands on your head.  This is your only warning.”

“Fuck you!”  Dean shouted over the counter.

“Dean, no!”  Hissed Sam. 

“Well, I’m not getting arrested.”

“Show them Cas.”

Dean did.  He pulled Castiel up with him, holding the gin right against his forehead.  Castiel was not scared.  Well, he was, but not scared that Dean would shoot him.  Dean wouldn’t hurt him, not really.

“Keep looking for the keys,” Dean said, almost calmly, “SWAT team’s probably on the way.  I’ve got a plan but you need to have the keys.”

The policeman with the megaphone was saying more, but Castiel wasn’t listening.  His whole attention was focused on the little red dots that danced on the floor in front of him.  They shouldn’t be able to hit Dean, not if he stayed where he was.

“Watch the back door, that’s probably where they’ll come in.  Be ready.  Don’t get shot.”

“I’m ready, Dean. Are y-“ but that was when –almost simultaneously- the door burst down, and the room exploded with light and smoke.  Shadowy figures were suddenly filling the room, Sam had disappeared and Dean had let his captive go a little.  Chaos had broken out, but all Castiel could think was _stay with Dean.  Stay with Dean_.  Little red dots cut through the smoke like demon’s eyes, searching for prey.  Castiel was useless, his hands still tied.  He tried to keep close to Dean, who maintained a loose grip on him, dragging him somewhere, he didn’t know where.

Something caught his eye, a pinprick of red, terrifying and incriminating.  It moved cautiously, insidiously, over Dean’s belly.  There was no time.  The moment of hesitation then, as if it was taking a deep breath before it struck, was all Castiel needed to make his decision.

“Dean no!”  He cried, pulling away from the other man and moving n front of him.  He didn’t think, didn’t even breath.  He just dove.  There was a bang that was at once lost in the commotion, and the most important sound in the world.  This followed by a sudden burning pain in his stomach.

“Cas, what the-“  Dean’s voice seemed to come from a long way off as the world fell away to nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, though it saddens me, we're nearly done here.  
> As always, thanks to Percy, who is my wonderful beta reader.


	6. Chapter 6

            Gabriel’s days had been a blur of worry since the night Castiel had not come home.  For four days he had waited with bated breath, watching the news, hardly daring to move lest he miss something important.  The minute the Winchesters became suspects he had been wanted for interviews.  But all he’d wanted to do was be alone.  Alone with the TV.

His family had been of little help.  Every since Michael had caught Castiel with that boy in his room and told their father, it had become rather taboo to talk to him.  Gabriel’s decision to move in with him had been an act of pure desertion.  Poor kid needed a friend.  And now he had no one.  Gabriel had imagined him tied up and scared. He kicked himself

He had played the events of that morning, the last time he’d seen Castiel, through in his mind a thousand times.  He had teased him.  Castiel had left for work in a huff, cheeks flushed with indignation as he pulled his collar free of his stupid blue sweater.  If he hadn’t been angry, if Gabriel hadn’t made him angry, maybe he would’ve come straight home.  
            Then he got the call, four days in.  The plane ride, the taxi to the hospital, the seconds seemed maddeningly slow.  
            “Where is he?”  He demanded the minute he reached the front desk at the hospital.  “Where’s Castiel?”  
            When the clerk told him to go to the intensive care unit, Gabriel almost flipped his shit.  No.  It must be really bad then.  
            The halls of the ICU were deathly quiet and Gabriel’s pounding footfalls raced his heartbeat as he looked through doors to rooms, sickeningly sterile and cold.  There it was, there was Castiel’s room.  The curtain around the bed was half drawn but Gabriel knew.  
According to the doctor that met him at the door, it was a matter of willpower now.  They had done all they could for him, they’d gotten the bullet out of him, but the damage was severe.  It was up in the air.  Of course Gabriel had reacted poorly to this, but in the end there was nothing he could say or do to change the facts.  
            Castiel looked like hell.  He was white as the sheets except for the bruises that blossomed on his cheek, his broken nose, beneath his eyes.  There was a cut on his cheek that looked like it came from an especially heavy blow.  Tubes extended from his wrist and nose, like roots, or veins, some of them connected to plastic sacks of liquid and others to machines that, for all their supposed promises of giving life, looked dead and uncaring.  
            “Oh God, Castiel.”  The words fell out of him, heavy.  “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”  
            No response.  
            “I should’ve been there for you.”  Gabriel went on, “you’re my baby brother.  I should’ve looked out for you.”  Gabriel remembered Castiel as he had been when they were kids.  Second youngest of the ten children, the one small enough to be picked on and old enough that it was permissible, at least as far as their father was concerned.  He had always been kindest to Samandriel too, taking on the role of big brother as if it was meant for him.  Too much heart, they all agreed.  Too much for his own good, too much for that body of his to contain.  And Gabriel loved him.  He loved his little brother more than he would ever admit to his face.  But when Castiel wakes up, I’ll tell him.  Gabriel promised himself that.  
            “I was so scared, Castiel.”  He took his brother’s limp hand.  An IV stuck out intrusively from the back of it.  “I’ll take better care of you from now on.  I promise.  I’ll be nicer, I’ll be the best big brother.  Just wake up…”  
Still nothing.  With a sigh, Gabriel pulled out his phone and began the call he knew he’d have to make eventually.  The phone rang three times.  
            “Gabriel.”  The voice was clipped and utilitarian.  
            “Michael.”  Gabriel replied with no more courtesy than his brother had afforded him, then relented.  “Hi.  Is… is Dad home?”  
            “No.”  
            “Figures.”  Gabriel decided to stall.  Why jump straight into the thick of it?  “How are you?”  
            “We’re fine.”  
            “How’s Samandriel?”  
            “He’s doing well.  He applied to colleges earlier this year.”  Michael’s voice did not break its monotone once.  
            “Oh, oh good.  The last Novak boy to leave the nest, huh?”  
            “Gabriel, you didn’t really call to ask after all your siblings did you?”  
            Gabriel paused.  “Well no.  Not exactly. I guess you’ve been watching the news, so you probably know already but… they found Castiel.”  
            “I heard.”  Gabriel hoped he really had heard a small softening of the voice.  
            “I’m in the hospital in Nebraska with him now.  Just got here this morning.”  
            “And?”  
            “He… he’s not doing so well, Michael.”  
            “I’m sorry to hear that.”  
             “They said he might not make it.  I thought you’d want to know.”  
            “Thank you for telling me.”  Still the coldness in his brother’s voice.  
            “That’s it?”  Gabriel’s patience could not hold forever.  “That’s all?”  
            “All what?”  Michael asked, voice still cold.  “I’ll tell Dad what you said.  I don’t know what more you expect us to do given the circumstances.”  
That was it.  All Gabriel could take.  He was shouting before he could help himself.  “Fuck Dad!  And fuck his ignorant, religious bullshit!  Don’t you care, Michael?  Your brother’s dying here.  Castiel’s still the sweet little kid he always was.  He’s still your brother, and if it was you in his place Castiel would be the first one over here to help take care of you.”  
            A long pause, “of course I care, Gabriel.  You know when I told Dad about Castiel, I never thought he’d react that way.  I’ve always loved him.  I love all my siblings.  But it doesn’t matter what I think.  Dad’s been rigid on the issue.  As far as he’s concerned Castiel’s already dead.  I can’t just disobey, Gabriel.”  
            “You’re a thirty four year old man,” Gabriel insisted. “Buy your own damn plane ticket.  Tell everyone else to do the same.  Someone in this fucking family needs to act like an adult and stop blindly following Dad.  He’s not God or anything.”  
            “I wish I could, Gabriel.  But I can’t risk my standing with Dad.  I owe him everything, especially since he’s promised me the company when he retires.  But look, if he …doesn’t make it… I’m sure Dad will pay for the funeral.”  
            “Pay for the-“ Gabriel sputtered, “you’re all a bunch of spineless bastards, you know that?  You’re all so afraid of Dad that you’ll abandon your little bother who was just fucking kidnapped and shot!  You’re just a great big bag of dicks Michael.  And you can tell Dad to go fuck himself.”  And with that, Gabriel hung up.  
            His breathing was still heavy, and his mouth tasted like anger.  Fuck Michael.  He didn’t need to call the other siblings.  If Michael said no then that was it.  It was just him and Castiel.  If his brother did die, he would be the only one here to hold his hand when it happened.  Their absent father would pay for the funeral, whoopty fucking doo.  
He looked down at the unconscious figure in the bed.  He was still breathing softly, bottom lip swollen from a blow to the face.  The fucking Winchesters did this.  They ruined his life, ruined his brother.  The police report had said that he was hit by one of the SWAT guys.  Dean Winchester had shoved him in front of the bullet to save his own stupid life.  If Gabriel could get his hands on Dean Winchester…  But that wasn’t how these things worked.  
            Outside it had gotten very dark.  Gabriel heaved a heavy sigh.  He supposed he’d be sleeping here tonight.  A sullen nurse in a star-print smock came in to check on Castiel.  
            “Is he doing okay?”  Gabriel asked.  
            “He’s stable.”  Said the nurse.  “But he was stable before.”  
            “Oh.”  
            “I’m sorry.”  
            “It’s okay.”  Of course it really wasn’t.  
            “Is there anything you need?  I can run and get you a coffee?”  
            “That sounds awesome.  Thanks.”  Gabriel tried to smile convincingly.  
            After the nurse left the room, he returned his gaze to Castiel.  He did something then that was strikingly out of character.  He prayed.  Clasping his brother’s hand between both of his, and closing his eyes, he prayed.  
            _Dear God, I’m new at this.  Damn, I don’t even know if anyone’s listening.  But if you are, you gotta save Castiel.  That’s all I’ll ever ask for.  Please, just save my baby brother.  If anyone deserves to live, it’s him.  Please!  I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do without him.  Please.  Please.  Please._ __  
A soft moan.  Gabriel’s eyes shot open.  Castiel had stirred!  His lips were parted slightly and his eyelids fluttered.  
            “Castiel!”  Gabriel exclaimed, unable to fight the grin that spread across his face.  
            “G-Gabriel?”  His voice was rough and weak, but there.  He was speaking.  Nothing else mattered.  
            “Yeah, it’s me.  Oh God, Castiel, I was so worried!”  Gabriel pushed the hair off Castiel’s forehead with the hand that wasn’t already occupied with his brother’s.  His heart was racing, his mind doing somersaults.  Castiel was alright!  He was okay!  He was alive!  Everything was going to work out!  
            A soft pause as Castiel squinted up at him.  “Dean… wh-where’s Dean?  What happened to Dean?”  
            “What?”  Gabriel demanded, “Dean Winchester?  He got away.  Him and Sam.  After you got shot they must have escaped.  Castiel, why do you-“  
            But a small smile was spreading over Castiel’s lips, so rarely inclined to smile.  “I’m so glad.”  He sighed, and his eyes closed again, this time in a lighter sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of the story. It's been a wild ride. I'm sorry, there's not much in the way of closure. But I hope you enjoyed it! I do believe my beta-reader, Percy, has written something like twenty one alternate endings that may or may not be more satisfying, and those will be available to read sometime after christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I would beg you to please, please give feedback, or just comment to be awesome!


End file.
